


rain (the gift)

by cloudburst



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18276077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudburst/pseuds/cloudburst
Summary: After the bombs fell, there was still this painting in the bedroom we’d shared in Sanctuary Hills, but it was only a frame – no picture to match.





	rain (the gift)

**Author's Note:**

> i was feelin this at 1 am on a friday. i have class this morning so cheers

Before the bombs fell, there had been this painting in the bedroom we’d shared in Sanctuary Hills, that Nora and I had shared. It looked something like blots of water across the canvas, which made sense, what with the picture being of a couple kissing underneath a bright blue umbrella, dots of near-purple rain falling onto them. I’d never understood the appeal of kissing in the rain - wasn’t for me; why put yourself in a position of discomfort when you can just avoid it altogether? (I think my time fighting had made my cynical, but who knows. Maybe I was bitter from the start.) 

But Nora? She loved the rain – it was her place, and she’d dance beneath the angry droplets like nothing could stop her. And I loved her. I suppose, in a way, the rain became something of a love song for me, the steady noise falling across our roof, falling when we made love in the park with the scent of it still thick in the air. The world stopped when it rained – a paradox, because everything was happening all at once. 

Then she’d died – and it had been sunny outside. Light being snuffed out by light made no sense; rain I might have accepted, but nothing was a comfort. They had taken my wife in broad daylight, and taken my son made in the rain. I suppose, in a way, the rain became something of a nightmare. 

After the bombs fell, there was still this painting in the bedroom we’d shared in Sanctuary Hills, but it was only a frame – no picture to match. The couple was gone, and I hated the downpour. Walking into Goodneighbor that day felt like a mistake – felt like premonition wrapped in a bow. Everything was wet, but the neon lights still guided me to some dive bar with a woman singing off in the corner. Her voice was like water. I couldn’t breathe. I walked into that back room looking for a reprieve; I knew they’d told me something about a mercenary, but I couldn’t have cared less. I needed to escape, but that wasn’t meant to be. After all, it had been raining. And the air had been thick with foreboding, or some bullshit like that. 

The merc’s voice was like the earth, damp but solid. It cut through the moisture clogging my ears, and suddenly I could hear the conversation – could barely stop myself as I convinced him to sign on with me. (I didn’t stop myself, and I thank God for that.) Suddenly, the rain didn’t seem so bad, at least in that instant. I got a room in that hotel – the one I could barely find the name of at the time, and slept well for what seemed like the first time in years. (That would be two-hundred years, to tell you closer to the truth. But to say I slept well would be an exaggeration – rain would always haunt me I thought, just a little.)

It was sunny when he yelled at me for the first time. 

_‘You wanna risk your life, and for what? There’s no payoff here, Austin. None at all – not gettin’ us any closer to saving anyone.’_

_‘We do it because it’s right, Mac.’_

The right thing was so goddamn hard, sometimes. But I did it – and that night he’d apologized in the makeshift shack I’d built up, just temporary. The family had thanked us for saving their home, invited us to stay inside even, but I didn’t wish to impose. I guess I’m funny like that. But MacCready – he’d whispered a soft apology as clouds rolled across the sky. The sound of rain off the water that night had reminded me of the soft tones across my roof in Sanctuary Hills. But this time, there was no small, warm arm wrapped around my torso. I was alone. I hated the rain. 

We were saving his son because it was the right thing to do, and because I was a fool. I was a fool for him, and of this there was no doubt. I came out of that lab like a hero, at least I know in his eyes I was one, if even for just a moment. There was no rain, but the droplets from MacCready’s eyes could have passed for it. They were steady, and I hated them until I realized they were from joy. It wasn’t so bad, then. 

Walking back into Goodneighbor was cathartic; I hadn’t even realized that I longed to be within the dingy locale until I felt the relief as the tension fell from my shoulders – MacCready pressing the cure into her palm. Thunder roared, but I couldn’t hear anything over the pounding in my ears. Everything was going to be okay, and as I stepped out – my own rain mingled with the cloudburst. I was afraid to be alone again. It was bad, then. 

But then he was placing a wooden soldier into my palm, after we’d returned to my apartment in Goodneighbor, saying he wanted me to have it. The world had never been so blurred. 

_‘I just want you to know how much your friendship means to me.’_

The sound of rain pattering on the roof had cut through to me – and I functioned enough to form words, if only for a moment. 

_‘I was hoping that what we have together could be more than friendship.’_

I could barely hear over the pounding in my ears – over the rain – as told me he didn’t know, told me he had never thought of us that way, _asked me about Nora._ And he was right, we did have to move on – at some point. 

_‘That’s the past. You’re all that matters to me now.’_

_‘I don’t think anyone in the world could ask for a greater gift than that.’_

He kissed me for the first time, then. 

Leaving Goodneighbor, the rain had not yet let up. I ran to him, and our lips met beneath that broken bridge. It was our bright blue umbrella, and the near-purple rain helped to make me whole. I suppose, in a way, the rain became something of a love song for me.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think. i miss my son maccready


End file.
